Outrunning Fate
by Exilo
Summary: With the fallout of the Ark polluting the universe, the Jiralhanae are in need of a place to rally. They don't find it on a little planet the humans call "Dune". Kig-Yar-centric, one shot, short, R&R, part of a larger franchise. Sequel to "JADIP"


**A little gift for Luke-1539, featuring his Kig-Yar, Iza, based on after the Schism ended. Iza belongs to Luke. Hope you like.**

_Outrunning Fate_

Life was an odd sort of game, Iza mused, as the Sangheili lined with their tanks and swords just out of range of his Carbine. Not that he was planning to kill too many. Or any at all. What was the point? They had lost. And now the Sangheili were coming to lay waste to the Jiralhanae loyalists that remained.

Iza sighed, watching them passively through the scope. There were… a lot. Lots and lots of Sangheili for the small pack of Jiralhanae kept behind the walls of the base. And not just Sangheili. Unggoy, Kig-Yar, even some humans. _Uck. Humans._Iza didn't much care for humans. He didn't have the zealous hatred for them that the Jiralhanae had, but he didn't much like them. It was a human that got him into this mess in the first place.

Well, Sangheili too. The more he thought about it, the more he figured he was just damned from the start. A shipmaster, he didn't know the name, but a shipmaster had come to him and told him to assassinate Chieftain Taurus. Why, Iza really didn't know either. The shipmaster didn't give a reason, but Iza was pretty sure it was little more than some ancient blood feud the two species still clung to. Iza had no interest in dick-waving, but didn't want to say no to such a figure as the shipmaster, so he said yes. He had gone and tracked the chieftain to a small base on a small planet, and had been all set to take the shot, when a human just had to come along. That in and of itself wasn't a huge problem. Iza figured the human would be competent enough to shoot the chieftain and Iza could take the credit. But that damn human fucked things up. And by the times things had ceased to be fucked up, the chieftain had already gone back into cover. Iza would have had to wait an entire cycle for the chieftain to come back out to make his daily rounds, and to be frank, that was not something Iza would have survived. And he couldn't have gone back to the Sangheili and say he had failed. They would just tear him apart.

So, without options, he went and pledged his loyalty to Taurus. He explained that the Sangheili had hired him out, but that he couldn't bring himself to kill a Jiralhanae. The Jiralhanae accepted that, and let him into the pack. And for a while, everything was normal. Not good, but normal. Iza had superiors that barked out orders, he did the grunt work, and got enough to eat and drink.

Then along came the Schism, and Iza again found himself fighting Sangheili, mixed in with the humans. And he did his job without much thought or pride, just doing it because there was a big, scary monster telling him to do that. And when the Jiralhanae lost the war, and Taurus came back to this old base to lick his wounds, Iza went along, mostly because he had nowhere else to go. Inevitably, the Sangheili tracked Taurus and his pack here, and Iza found himself where he was now. The humans had a saying about this position. Something about being stranded at the top of a large body of fluids, without anything to propel them through a stream of excrement. Or something like that. Iza wasn't sure, but he had heard several captured marines say it before they were abruptly executed.

Iza pulled away from the scope of his carbine and just looked it over. "Up shit's creek without a paddle!" he shouted suddenly, then clamped his beak closed as a blush settled on his cheeks. What was worse, Taurus had heard.

Taurus was, all and all, average for a Jiralhanae. Not much bigger, if at all, than his pack, though the rise of his helmet gave him a more intimidating silhouette. Not bulkier. Not smarter, in fact probably stupider than most Brutes (and that was saying something!). But for whatever reason, he was the chieftain. And Iza took orders from him first and foremost.

"Kig-Yar," he barked. "What are the numbers?"

Iza sighed. Apparently the Jiralhanae didn't have eyes to see just how fucked they were. "Legions sir. Two legions I would say. Sir… there's quite a lot of them."

Taurus crossed his arms. "Yes, there are."

Iza swallowed, worrying he was in store for some speech about a noble, glorious death, but thank the gods that never came about. Taurus simply looked down to him, snorted, then turned and headed off to speak with the other Kig-Yar that held the wall. There were ten Kig-Yar, counting Iza himself. Twenty five Jiralhanae. That was it. Against two legions of Sangheili, four Mgalekgolo, a few lances of Kig-Yar, a couple human, and a near limitless supply of Unggoy. Iza had heard that the Sangheili were offering amnesty in exchange for loyalty. Well, not to the Jiralhanae, but certainly a Kig-Yar. Certainly Iza, who didn't do that much against them. They would let him go, provided he wasn't ripped apart in the crossfire.

He sighed. Or maybe they would just clip in the crossfire and leave him to rot on this damn planet. He had seen some of the things that lived on this planet. Real monsters that were attracted by the scent of blood. Jiralhanae blood mostly since Taurus' favorite punishment for any insubordination was to carve out the offender's intestines and leave them out in the open, still alive. Taurus, far away, would watch the ghastly spectacle. One time, just by chance, Iza had gone with him, and again just by chance, looked through the scope of his carbine to see what was happening. It was an image that he would never be able to forget, and that was saying something with all that had happened in the war.

Iza twisted slightly, and sat on the ground with his back against the wall. One clip for his carbine, and half a clip for his Needler. That was all he had left. If he were remarkably lucky, he might be able to kill one Sangheili and a few Unggoy, a few humans, but what was the point? Why bother? Survive this and then run right into a new battle. If he were given amnesty, he would be drafted into the Sangheili's army. He actually thought of turning the Needler on himself.

Before he had made a decision, the ground beneath him rocked, and he fell forward, off the platform that circled the wall and onto the ground. He groaned, feeling nothing broken but his whole body sore as he tried to open his eyes. With a squeal, he scurried backwards to avoid being stepped on by a passing captain, who was snarling and barking orders. Looking up, he saw a fat blue blob of a tank's shot arc over the wall and crash inside.

Iza continued scooting back, as the Jiralhanae stopped in some sort of savage war dance, getting their blood up and adrenaline pumping. They had erected the shields for the base to ward off mortar fire, not that the Sangheili would mind much. They no doubt wanted to fight sword to hammer. And if that happened, perhaps Iza could slip out in the confusion. Sangheili could not tell Kig-Yar apart. He could just sneak into the Kig-Yar lance and go with the flow.

There was a long while of silence. Well, by silence, there weren't the sounds of war. The Jiralhanae were still doing their blood riling ritual. It was deafening. His head was throbbing and his ears felt like they were going to pop. He rubbed his temples, still holding his carbine in his other hand, Needler still attached to his thigh. Almost in boredom, he set the carbine down beside him, and took the Needler up. Cradling it in his lap, he ejected one of the needles and took it, holding it like a dagger.

By whatever twist of fate, the Sangheili didn't breach the front wall Iza was leaning against. Had they, he probably would have been killed, either buried under rubble or crushed by swarming Sangheili hooves. No, they came through the back wall, most likely to surprise the Jiralhanae, since a good number were peppered with the exploding wall, then several burned with the fat orbs of a plasma rifle. The Jiralhanae were quick to retaliate, lifting their Spikers and own version of the plasma rifles and peppering the mass of Sangheili that clawed through the opening in the wall. It was a small hole actually, enough for three to five Sangheili to get through at once. So for a while at least, the Jiralhanae were able to slaughter them.

Iza sighed, long and loud**,**as he played with the needle and watched the battle, if it could be called that. Sharp eyes traced over the Sangheili squads that were trying so hard to get through the hole, and he noted that there were no Kig-Yar among them. Fate was a funny thing. For just a moment Iza thought maybe it was smiling upon him, and then this. Fate was doing little more than slapping him in the face. Playing with him. Torturing him like those beasts did the wounded Jiralhanae at Taurus' whim.

There was Taurus. His hammer was different then others. More of a mace than a hammer really. The head was rounded, so blows could be delivered equally effectively with any side of the head. The Sangheili were getting through the hole in numbers the Jiralhanae couldn't contend with. The pace of the battle had turned. The Jiralhanae were losing. And if they were losing, Taurus was going to go down fighting. Hammer held out horizontal to the ground, he began swinging madly, knocking Sangheili… and Jiralhanae aside. Typical. Taurus really was little more than an animal when it came right down to it. And now, so close to death, competition for kills was strict. The Jiralhanae wanted a lot of kills under their belt to look good for their gods. Oh, of course, maybe he was just blinded with rage and didn't see his brothers falling to his hammer, but Iza did suspect, deep down, he simply wanted to go into the afterlife with his fur and hammer stained with purple blood.

Iza scooted a bit farther back, and then started to circle the chieftain, hugging the wall. Taurus was making a wonderful mess of things, and doing his part as a distraction. Maybe Iza could just sneak out? Get out, then stay low to the ground, and integrate into the Kig-Yar lance? Pretend he had been there all along? Bribe his fellow Kig-Yar with promises and what goods he had on him? Would that work?

A good plan really. One he would have taken since he didn't have much else to chose from. But then Taurus turned to him. Iza did see such things in his eyes. His eyes somehow deepened into an even darker red. There were burns and orange spikes spilling out of his thick hide, and several pink Needler shards sticking out of his chest. And he didn't even seem to have slowed down too much.

Iza didn't know what force made him move next. But Chieftain Taurus roared and charged suddenly, recognizing Iza as the only warm body in range for a moment. Iza, somehow, pulled at the needle from his belt, and in one swift movement had thrown it. One needle would do little to damage the berserking creature, but (again it would seem fate was toying with Iza) there were six needles already protruding from Taurus' chest. When the seventh burrowed into the fur, all seven reacted, and exploded in a pink mist that sent the chieftain onto his back, roaring in pain.

Another hole opened at the front wall. The Mgalekgolo must have grown too bored. They pounded through the wall and stormed inside, making their guttural roars as the battlefield was suddenly alight with the green of the canon fire.

"By the rings," Iza muttered, but did notice, to his delight, there was now a rather large hole open from where the Mgalekgolo had come through. And the Sangheili were now mostly concerned with mopping up the remaining Jiralhanae. One, a field master by his armor, strolled forward, regally activating his blade, before easily slicing through Taurus' head. Iza growled a bit at that, but that wasn't his biggest thought. His biggest thought was the hole that the Mgalekgolo had made, and that no Sangheili were coming through. Hugging the wall close, and scooting along towards the opening, keeping his head low and his movements quick.

And he made it to the opening, and looked to the heavens with a wide grin on his face, and a slight thank you escaped his beak.

And then thick fingers took him around the throat and lifted him off the ground, and he came eye to eye with a Sangheili. Beneath the assault helmet, the Sangheili growled. Iza wasn't sure if he said anything, but he was pretty sure he begged for mercy, which to his shock came about when the Sangheili handed him to a pack of Unggoy. Those Unggoy lifted plasma pistols to him, training them on him, not that he was thinking about running now. He sighed, lifting his hands over his head and waiting. It wasn't uncommon for Sangheili to grant amnesty after all. Who knew, maybe one of the Sangheili had noticed his betrayal of Taurus. Maybe that was going to spare him a swift execution.

Or maybe fate was, again, laughing at him…


End file.
